


Disconnect

by ArgylePirateWD



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Gen, Henry's 237th Birthday, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8084806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/pseuds/ArgylePirateWD
Summary: After working at the OCME for a few months, Lucas starts to realize just how difficult working in a morgue can be. He's not the first person to be hit hard by the job, and he won't be the last.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For [starlord-of-terra](http://starlord-of-terra.tumblr.com) for the Henry's 237th Birthday exchange. :)

"You can't think of them as people," Henry'd told him on day one. "If you're the type who cannot disconnect from the idea that you're working on what was once a living, breathing human being like yourself, then—for your sake—I highly recommend walking away now."

"Nah, I've got it," Lucas had said. "I can totally disconnect from that stuff, sure. I'm, like, a pro at disconnecting from personal stuff."

Henry hadn't looked convinced. "Well, there's nothing to be ashamed of if you can't. Most people can't. Even if the gorier aspects of this profession don't bother you, death is not easy for most people to face."

"I can handle it," Lucas had insisted. "Seriously, Doc, I got this."

Most of the time, Lucas didn't have trouble, and disconnected easily. Those weren't people on the autopsy slab—they were puzzles. Complex, unique puzzles made of flesh, blood, and bone, and finding out why they'd gone from person to puzzle was of the utmost importance. And solving the puzzles was pretty cool, too, even when it was far more disgusting than he'd ever imagined.

He liked to think he was even good at pushing all of the personal stuff aside and treating the corpses as objects until the job was done.

The woman on the table this time was as unremarkable as they came. Cause of death was a textbook boring heart attack—the kind they handled almost every day. She didn't remind him of a family member, a friend, a much-loved or hated teacher, anyone. Maybe that's what hit him like a kick to the chest, what made him say, _"I can't do this,"_ take off his gloves, and run.

She was so mundane. Was that what had him hiding in a corner of the break room, his eyes burning and his throat aching as he tried not to cry? God, he could've passed her on the street every day and never noticed. Could've stood behind her in a coffee shop, rode beside her on the subway, sat at a table near hers at a restaurant. And in what universe did it make sense that someone's normalcy could make him flip out like this?

The door cracked open, and, unsurprisingly, Henry peered inside. "Is everything all right, Lucas?"

Immediately, words poured out of Lucas's mouth, so fast his tongue tripped over the babbled, "Sorry, sorry. I don't know what happened out there. Like, I was fine, and then I wasn't, and I-I didn’t know her or anything, and I screwed up, and—"

"I'm not here to chastise you, Lucas," Henry gently said, and Lucas clamped his mouth shut. "I wanted to check on you."

Henry closed the door behind him, and took a seat at the table, then gestured toward the chair across from him, a silent invitation. "I'd like to talk to you, please."

Lucas's mind was racing. He was so stupid. He'd screwed up so bad. "I'm fine," he lied, hurrying to the seat, hoping like hell that his eyes weren't red—or that, if they were, Henry wouldn't notice. Dammit, he was supposed to be disconnected. This was the first job he'd ever had that he actually _loved_ , and, God, what if Henry fired him over this? "I'm okay. I'm fine."

Tilting his head, Henry eyed him for a while. Lucas swallowed hard, and glanced away, biting his lip. Henry said, "Offering reassurance is not at all my strong suit anymore—" Lucas suppressed a snort. "—but you don't have to be fine all the time, Lucas. I promise."

"Really?" Lucas looked back up at Henry. "But, like—you told me to stay disconnected—"

"I did," Henry said, "for your well-being. Realizing that you're working on someone who was once as alive as you can be...distressing. You're hardly the only person to be upset by working with death—you're not even the only one in this room."

A faraway look crossed Henry's face, but it was gone quickly. Henry leaned in, and said, "Listen to me: If anybody who works in any sort of medical field—especially one like ours—ever tells you that they've never been overwhelmed by the reality of what they're doing? Then they are either lying to you, or it hasn't happened to them yet."

That made a ton of sense. God, it was a wonder he'd made it this many months without freaking out, wasn't it?

"And ours is an especially brutal profession," Henry continued. "Sometimes, what we're doing here breaks through our defenses. There's no shame in that—I'd say it's the opposite, in fact." He gave Lucas a small smile. "Compassion isn't a failing, Lucas. It isn't a weakness.

"But that doesn't mean it won't cause you pain." Henry got up from the table and retrieved a tissue from a box on the counter, then offered the tissue to Lucas. "It's a delicate balance, being empathetic and being detached enough to get this job done."

Accepting the tissue, Lucas asked, "And how do I do that?"

"That, I'm afraid, is something you'll have to figure out yourself," Henry replied, "but I have faith in you."

Lucas's eyes bugged out. "You-you do?" he said, voice going embarrassingly high, and he grinned. Holy crap, Henry Morgan had faith in him. "Seriously? Wow."

Before he registered what he was doing, he was throwing his arms around Henry, squeezing him in the tightest hug. Henry stiffened, but didn't shove him away. Henry was letting him hug him, even giving him an awkward pat on the back. How cool was that? "Thanks, Boss."

"You're welcome," Henry said, with a surprising lack of irritation, and began extracting himself from Lucas's arms. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go finish with Mrs. Taglieri. Will you be joining me, or do you need the rest of the day off?"

Lucas considered the question. Could he handle the rest of the autopsy, or did he need a break? He _was_ feeling a lot better. Maybe he could. "Yeah," he said, "I'll be there."

For the first time ever, Henry gave him a genuine smile.


End file.
